Kunikos
by theboywiththebread
Summary: Yao doesn't believe in love, but Ivan loves him anyway. Their relationship is difficult and complicated, but is there still a chance that it will all work out? RoChu. AU. Oneshot.


Love isn't real. Yao knows this, though sometimes he wishes that he didn't. It would be naïve of him, yes, but there would be no shame in such naïveté if it were to make Ivan happy. Ivan, the man who loves Yao, who is so good and so kind to him, who deserves to be loved. What cruel irony that he fell for a man who couldn't love him back.

Ivan understands, or so he tells Yao. He says that he doesn't begrudge him his inability to love, but Yao is not entirely convinced that he is telling the truth. Yao tells Ivan all the time how much he means to him, how he is his favourite person in the entire world. He hopes that it makes up for the fact that he has never said _I love you_. He hopes that Ivan never worries that he isn't good enough to hear those three special words. It isn't Ivan's fault at all, it is Yao's.

"Why don't you believe in love?" Ivan had asked him when Yao first told him.

They had been sitting outside somewhere, Yao didn't remember where, and the he had looked up to the sky as he started to answer.

"Why should I?" he had asked, eyes on the clouds above, not wanting to look at Ivan's face.

"Because you are loved. I love you," the Russian had said.

Yao still wasn't sure if Ivan had been trying to make him feel guilty by saying that, but he had sure as hell succeeded.

"I just don't think it's a real thing. People believe it because that's what they're always told, that people fall in love and live happily ever after, just like the princes and princesses in the fairy tales," said Yao.

"Love isn't perfect like in those stories, but that doesn't mean it's not real," Ivan had replied.

Yao had stolen a glance at the other man and found that he too was gazing at the sky. He'd worried that Ivan couldn't bear to look at him, that he'd never be able to look Yao in the eye again knowing that he could not love.

"Love is something special and magical, and people aren't either of those things. In the end, we're just animals. Clever, complex animals, more advanced than any of the others, but no more deserving of something as beautiful as they say love is than any other beast," he had said.

Yao had looked at Ivan again, and for the first time since they had started talking, the dark-haired man looked into the other's eyes. He looked crushed — Yao's heart sank when he realized that _he_ had done this to him.

"Maybe love is real," Yao had said, voice soft and full of regret, "and I just can't understand it because there's something wrong with me."

The words were barely out of his mouth when Ivan had wrapped his arms around Yao, pulling him close and holding him tenderly against his chest.

"Don't say that, Yao. There's nothing wrong with you. You don't believe in love, and that's fine. It doesn't change how I feel about you," Ivan had said.

Yao knows that he Ivan deserves someone better, someone who can love him, but he never says so. As bad as he feels about not loving Ivan, he does not want to give him up.

* * *

Yao has never lied to Ivan. At least, not about anything important. The notion that he could simply tell Ivan that he loved him even if it was not true doesn't strike Yao until they have been together for nearly two and a half years.

Ivan hardly ever tells Yao that he loves him now. Yao selfishly hopes that it is because he doesn't want to make the Chinese man feel guilty that he cannot say it back, though he knows there is a chance that Ivan doesn't love him any longer.

Still, the phrase sometimes slips out when Ivan isn't thinking – when he is drunk, when he is tired, when he thinks that Yao can't hear him. But quite often, Yao _does _hear him, and he wonders how many times Ivan has said those words without him ever knowing.

Yao doesn't know whether he wants Ivan to stop. There is something bittersweet about hearing his boyfriend tell him that he loves him. On one hand, Yao feels guilty that he cannot say it back, but there is another emotion there. Is it gratitude? Does hearing those words from Ivan make him happy? Is that what love feels like?

Yao doesn't know, and he doesn't think he ever will.

* * *

Yao wakes from his slumber one night and finds Ivan had wrapped his arms around him while he was asleep. Comfortably warm, he gently kisses Ivan's forehead before settling in for the night. Yao is tired enough that he could fall back asleep in no time at all, and he probably would have if it hadn't been for a soft whisper beside him.

"You're awake."

Yao isn't sure if it is a question or an observation.

"I am," he says.

Ivan pulls him closer and kisses him on the lips before asking him a question.

"Do you want to go back to sleep? Or would you rather…"

"Would I rather what?" Yao asks.

Ivan answers with a kiss. This one is deeper and hungrier than the last, and then Yao feels his boyfriend's hand slip beneath the waistband of his pyjama pants. Yao nods, wrapping his arms around Ivan's shoulders and kissing him back.

The darkness is complete, not a sliver of light coming in from behind the curtains. Yao cannot see Ivan, and every touch comes as a delicious surprise. Before long, they are tangled up in the sheets and in each other, soft moans breaking the silence of the winter night.

"I love you," Ivan whispers as their intimacy draws to a close.

The feeling of pleasure coursing through Yao's body is intense, and it clouds his mind. Without thinking, he repeats after Ivan.

"I love you."

He had always worried that it would happen, yet when it does, he doesn't even notice. Ivan says, "I've waited so long to hear you say that," and all of a sudden Yao realises what he has just said.

"Ivan, I'm so sorry," he says.

"You don't need to be sorry. You took your time, but you love me now. That's all that matters."

Yao shakes his head.

"I didn't mean to say that. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, Ivan, but how I feel about love hasn't changed."

Yao is glad that it is dark, because he knows that the look on Ivan's face would break his heart.

"Oh," is all that Ivan says.

"I'm sorry. I still… you mean a lot to me. More than anyone," Yao says.

"Couldn't that be love?" Ivan asks.

Yao has asked himself that same question many times before. Perhaps how he feels about Ivan _is_ what most people call love, but he can't bring himself to say it. It would feel too much like a lie.

"I don't think so."

Ivan moves off of Yao and lies down beside him. In the dark, it is impossible to tell whether he is angry or sad or just tired.

"I'm sorry," Yao says again, but this time there is no reply.

* * *

Yao doesn't know if he can go on like this for much longer. Something about their relationship changed on the night that he had accidentally told Ivan that he loved him. Two weeks have passed since then, and in that time, Ivan hasn't said _I love you_ once. They don't talk like they used to, and Ivan isn't as affectionate as he had once been. The kisses that had once been so soft have become rough and needy, as if the love that Ivan had once had for Yao has turned to lust.

Yao doesn't like it, and he doesn't like knowing that he was to blame. He had gotten Ivan's hopes up and then crushed them, and the fact that it had been an accident didn't change anything. His heart aches for how it once was, before he had ruined everything with those three accidental words.

One day while Ivan is at work, Yao packs a suitcase full of his belongings. He doesn't want to leave, but he knows that he is hurting Ivan by staying. The sooner the Russian can get over him, the sooner he can find someone who loves him and makes him happy.

Yao doubts that he will try to find someone else after he has left Ivan. It's not just the fear of hurting someone else like this; he doesn't think he will ever feel for another person the way he feels for Ivan right now.

When Ivan arrives home and sees the suitcase resting against the living room wall, he sits down on the sofa and buries his head in his hands.

"I didn't want it to come to this," he finally says.

"I don't either, but I'm hurting you. I can't keep doing that, it isn't fair," says Yao.

"Leaving will hurt me even more," says Ivan.

"Perhaps, but only for a little while. You'll heal, you'll move on. Staying would only keep the wound fresh, and I can't do that to you," Yao replies.

Ivan looks up at him and shakes his head.

"Yao, come and sit with me," he says, patting the empty spot on the sofa beside him.

Yao crosses the room and sits down. He stares at his lap, not wanting to look at Ivan and see the hurt in his eyes, written all across his face.

"I have always respected how you felt about love, and not once have I tried to change your mind," says the Russian.

"I know, but—"

"I'm not finished. Let me finish before you decide whether to stay or to go. I have never tried to change your mind, and that was a mistake. The way you feel about me is love, Yao. I know from the way you've described it — you tell me that I'm the person you care the most about, you say you could never feel like this about another person. That is exactly how I feel about you, and what you're saying now, that you don't want to hurt me, that you would leave so that I could be happy, that just makes it all the more obvious," Ivan says.

"I… I don't know. It just doesn't feel right, saying that I'm in love," says Yao.

"You act like being in love is something unattainable, but it's not. Love isn't a fairy tale, because it isn't about living happily ever after. It isn't about having a perfect, flawless relationship and never having arguments or days when you just want to be left alone. Love is seeing the flaws and the imperfections, but being willing to do anything to make it work anyway. That's how you feel, right?"

Yao nods. It's such a slight movement that he doesn't think that Ivan will notice it, but he does.

"Then you love me," says Ivan, "because that is what love is."

Yao sighs.

"I still don't know," he says.

He wants to stay, he really does, but giving in and saying that he loves Ivan doesn't seem right. _I love you_ still feels like a lie.

"You don't have to know. I can't change the way you feel that easily, but if you stay, and if you keep an open mind, it could happen," says Ivan.

They are both silent for a moment as Yao thinks it over. Maybe Ivan is right, but maybe he isn't. Maybe choosing to stay now will lead to more heartbreak down the line.

"I can't promise that I will change my mind," he eventually says, "and if I don't, it will hurt you."

"I know," Ivan says, "like I said before, love is being willing to do anything to make it work. That includes giving you another chance to hurt me."

"Okay," Yao says, "after all you have done for me, you deserve this. I am open to the possibility that what I feel for you is love. Is that good enough for now?"

Ivan nods. For the first time in a fortnight, he smiles — a genuine, loving smile directed at Yao.

"I'll be patient," he says, "you have spent so long not believing in love, so it will take time for you to come around."

"And if I don't?" Yao asks.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again — I'd do anything to make our relationship work, including letting you believe that love isn't real."

* * *

**I was going through some old documents on my computer and I came across this story, which I had completely forgotten about. It was about half done, and I decided to finish and publish it.**

**The title, **_**Kunikos**_**, is a Greek word from which 'cynic' is derived, and it seemed like a fitting title, what with Yao's very cynical views on love. It also means 'dog-like', which isn't quite as relevant, but I guess I didn't think of that when I came up with it nearly a year ago.**

**I'm not sure if the very brief, very vague sex scene (if it can even be called that) actually deserves an M rating, but I decided to play it safe anyway.**


End file.
